Pillow Talk
by snarkmcsnark
Summary: The golden rule states, "it's not gay if it's a three-way." When Elliot, Nick, and Olivia all end up in the same bar in LA, will the rule apply?
1. Plot

**AN:** _Hey! So this is another (crack)fic originating from a discussion on twitter. Hi Mari! Basically, it's an Elliot-Olivia-Nick threesome. It was supposed to be all smut, but it kind of took a life of it's own. Now, it's smut with a plot. This first part I'm posting is the prologue, so nothing R-rated yet. But stay tuned for the raunchy stuff, because I already have it written. I just need to edit (and send it to the Vatican for approval), so I'll likely have it up no later than tomorrow night. Be kind, be mean, and review._

* * *

 **Pillow Talk**

* * *

The bathroom stall is vandalized with beloved cartoon characters in compromising positions. There's Super Mario ingesting a magic mushroom, and beside him, Luigi taking a hit from a bong shaped like a penis. At eye level, there's Thomas the Tank Engine trudging along a set of tracks leading into a tunnel situated between the legs of Tinkerbell. It's not the kind of art you're particularly fond of, but you suppose you can appreciate it for its pop culture value.

Staring at your reflection, you become hyper-aware of the lines and dark circles around your eyes. You're exhausted and way too old to be in a place like this. You wouldn't even have allowed Nick to take you to this bar had you not been so burned out from your red-eye flight and subsequent conference. Normally, you would've offered an alternative suggestion but you were too tired to think of something, too tired to pull out your phone to ask Siri for the nearest wine bar.

"Liv, you'll love it," he assured you - puppy dog eyes and sweet smile ever-present on his face. "They've got live music, craft beer, and tons of cute girls."

 _Craft beer._ You roll your eyes at the memory of those last two bottles you consumed. You gave the second one a shot, because you thought the first one was just a bad variety; but they were both pretty awful. If you wanted to drink perfume, you would've gone into a Sephora.

You suppose you should quit mentally whining about your former partner's haunt of choice. Nick seems happy, and you remind yourself you should be happy for him. It took him a while to figure out his next move after he moved to the West coast. Retirement made him restless; the park police didn't allow him to work with animals as much as he had anticipated. Eventually, he found his stride working as an in-house investigator for one of the city's big multi-hyphenate law firms.

"I get paid to drive around and creep on people," he joked, a hint of that caustic self-deprecation in his voice. "It's kind of my specialty.

It's strange how much things have changed in less than a year. Not just with Nick. You've gone through so many changes as well. You advanced through the ranks from sergeant to lieutenant, then transferred out to a cubicle in Community Affairs, then back to your office at the 1-6. The promotion was a little premature, but you weren't going to say anything about it, especially not when they were giving you a bump in your salary. It certainly made it a lot more feasible to maintain the Upper West Side apartment and the full-time nanny.

While the stint at the office of police propaganda was short-lived, the aftereffects continued to ripple even after your return. It's the reason why you're in LA. Not to visit Nick, as he excitedly proclaimed when you told him over Skype. You were here because the department needed to send a representative to a national police conference. Since you were in the department doghouse after your most recent ill-advised relationship became public (thanks a lot, Barba), you got shafted with the job no one wanted.

On paper, flying to LA for three days and having a hotel room paid for seemed like a pretty sweet deal. But it wasn't a vacation because you had to attend a two-day conference on rapekit backlogs. And while it's an issue that's close to your heart, these particular police forums have been nothing but redundant and uninspired. Speakers rattle of of meaningless statistics and present abstract solutions to very concrete problems. "Stick decals on patrol cars to raise awareness, because that's _surely_ going to make a rapist reconsider his actions." So, while you do care about the issue at hand, you feel like you'd be a lot more productive taking on actual cases in New York.

The frustration isn't helped in any way by 1-PP, who still expects you to perform all your responsibilities as commanding officer of the squad. You've already received a slew of messages from Fin, saying Baby Dodds is on some power trip because he's delegated Fin to follow-up with witnesses from a private school in Park Avenue. "We're getting calls from West and East Harlem and you want me to look into the case of another rich, white girl?" And you haven't heard a word from Rollins, but it's probably because she's making the most of her Benson-free freedom while she can.

Speaking of Rollins, you broached the subject with Nick, but he shook his head and said he didn't want to hear it. He muttered something about Carisi's Foursquare checking into a hole-in-the-wall taco shop in Koreatown - a place Nick used to take Amanda back when they were hooking up. "I brought her there." He tossed off the rest of his beer and slammed the bottle on the counter. "It was _my_ taco place."

Seeing Nick more upset about the tacos than the possibility of a looming romance between your two detectives makes you think he might finally be over that whole debacle with Amanda.

If that's the case, good for him.

The bar is set up like a cantina - a semi-outdoor space with long picnic tables, and pennant banners and fairy lights running along the ceiling. It has this whimsical charm, only to be trumped by a clientele of twenty-somethings trying to catch their break in Hollywood. Everyone Nick has introduced you to is an actor with an iMDB page listing 'student in assembly' and 'burn victim'. Even the bartender, who knows Nick by name and drink of choice, is a struggling musician who spends her ample free time dropping off demos in celebrities' mailboxes. But Nick seems to enjoy the company, saying he feels kind of like the sage John Munch of the group. "I give the kids life advice, and they teach me how to nae nae and stinky leg. I'd say it's a fair trade."

As you approach the bar, you notice a blonde woman run straight for Nick. She throws her hands around his neck, and he lifts her off the ground. When she pulls away with heart eyes and a bright smile on her face, your body is forced to stay rooted in place. Blinking repeatedly to take in the sight; you're entirely convinced the universe is fucking with you. It's Kathleen Stabler.

But you're not the only one frozen like a statue. You feel that odd sense someone is staring at you, and when you look past the two unlikely friends, you zero in on those familiar, crystal blue eyes. This hallucination - because that's the only possible explanation - cocks his head to the side, lips mouthing, "what the fuck?"

Now, this reunion with Elliot would have been so much more awkward (and momentous) had you not seen each other for - _oh_ , five years. But contrary to popular belief, you have been keeping in touch (sort of).

When he left the force, he needed time to focus on his family and his marriage, and you respected that; so your relationship petered out to the occasional phone call and the bi-annual catch-up over coffee. You both made it a point to touch base even when it seemed like circumstances were trying to pull you apart. For a while, your phone calls were always intercepted by some guy named Warren. Elliot explained it was his crazy neighbour - someone paranoid about the NSA - armed with an antenna and a background in electrical engineering. Eventually though, Warren left and moved down to his mother's condo in Sarasota, so he was no longer a problem.

One time, you were surprised to receive an invitation in the mail to Eli's birthday party. It was a little awkward when you brought Brian as your plus one, but you all managed to be adults about it. You had to constantly remind your boyfriend at the time to keep his work stories G-rated for the sake of the kids, but other than that, no fists were thrown and no blood was shed. You considered it a success.

Later that year, you learned Elliot and Kathy's marriage was on the rocks and they were headed for a divorce. It seemed so close on the horizon, and all they needed were the papers and lawyers to make it official. You met up for drinks, which turned into a heart-to-heart, where Elliot revealed it wasn't the nature of the job that fractured their marriage, but his loyalty to his partner. _To you._ He trusted you more than he trusted her. He would've called you first in a crisis, before he would've even thought of calling her. What happened next probably wasn't the wisest decision, but you didn't regret it. It was a culmination of decades-worth of sexual tension (and a four-letter word you can't even admit to yourself). This arrangement kept going for a few weeks but, again, timing was not on your side.

Elliot couldn't reveal he was seeing someone for fear that Kathy would get the upperhand in the divorce proceedings. And you - you had just gotten out of a relationship with Brian. You could've waited it out a little longer, but then you found yourself in custody of a baby boy. Life got busy for the two of you, and soon enough you were back to sporadic phone calls and the timely holiday card.

Neither of you told a soul. You thought no one would ever find out your partnership crossed that invisible line. But for some reason, Nick had this disturbing talent of knowing when you just got laid. Some serial killers can sniff out a pregnancy; some friends can detect that just-had-sex glow. He saw it when you were with David, and he pointed it out when you were with Brian. So it shouldn't have come as a shock to you when he barged into your apartment one day, with that mischievous smile on his face. "You couldn't wait two seconds after you dumped Cassidy, and you're already getting dick from someone else?" He raised his hand for a high-five that never arrived. "Who is it?"

Of course, you refused to tell the little shit.

But Elliot was just as much of an idiot as your last partner, and he decided to stop by unannounced to your apartment that same day. He came with a bottle of wine and a plastic bag from CVS containing items that, both, delighted and repulsed one Nick Amaro.

"Oh my god! Olivia!" You're knocked back a step as Kathleen spears you into a hug. A cough catches in your throat as you get a strong whiff of cotton candy perfume and an undertone of patchouli (or is that marijuana?). "What are you doing here?"

"I'm in town for a police conference… Nick, here, offered to take me out for drinks."

"Wait, Nick was your partner after dad left?" Her jaw drops, hands flying to her cheeks. "No way!"

"What are you two doing here?"

"Kathleen's been living in LA for over a year. This is the first time she's letting me visit," Elliot explains, placing protective hands over his daughter's shoulders and inching her away from Nick. "She also needed help with all the IKEA crap she bought and never assembled."

"Hey, I offered to help you with that," Nick interjects.

Kathleen slaps his arm playfully, fake lashes fluttering. "I can't make you do that."

"But you can sit around and paint your nails while you force me to figure out Swedish instructions?" Elliot raises a brow.

"Love ya, dad," she says sweetly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

The four of you hang around the bar while Kathleen runs down the list of her most recent professions. To no one's surprise, she calls herself an actress even though she's only been to a handful of failed auditions. "I almost got the part for a commercial, but it was for some drug that treats Syphilis, and mom would've killed me if I had taken the job." She talks about finishing a semester in fashion school, before she decided it wasn't for her. As of present time, she works as a freelance makeup artist; and when she isn't painting the faces of D-list celebrities, she waits tables at TGI Fridays.

When asked about how Nick and Kathleen met, he mentions they met at the bar on the night she got fired from her job as a receptionist at a plastic surgeon's office. Running into a fellow New Yorker and a former cop made Kathleen feel a little less homesick.

You catch the green look on Elliot's face when the two exchange a brief smile. He clenches his fist, ready to swing at Nick at a moment's notice. "Please tell me you never had sex with my daughter."

Before Nick has the chance to defend himself, Kathleen sticks her tongue out and vigorously shakes her head. "Ew, dad! Gross!" There's a trace of displeasure on Nick's face, but he simply shrugs and doesn't let it bother him. "He reminds me too much of you, dad. Besides, I'm Nick's wing woman. I set him up with my girl friends -"

"-Your friends are 24, 25," Elliot starts, pointing a thumb at Nick, "this is a 40 year-old grown ass man."

Nick swallows hard, raising his arm to catch the attention of the bartender. "Can I have another shot of tequila. Please."

"Man, I swear to god, if you so much as looked at my daughter -"

"Relax," Nick says, trying his best to appease the situation. "Never even thought about it. I don't do blondes… Anymore."

He catches the offhand look you throw at him, before he contemplates the shot on the table. He knocks it down in one swift motion, barely wincing before he signals for another one. Meanwhile, Elliot glares in his direction and Kathleen crosses her arms over her chest like a scolded child. For once, you're a casual observer of all the drama. You sit back and take your artisanal cocktail to your lips. You're not usually a fan of sugary drinks, but this time, the sweet taste of pineapple, liqueur, and crushed ice tastes so heavenly.

"Well, this has been fun," Kathleen announces with a contradictory scowl. "It's been great hanging out at the seniors' table, but I'm going to go say hi to my friends now. Don't wait up for me, dad."

"Be home by eleven," Elliot calls out, half-serious.

Once Kathleen has joined her group of friends at a table closer to the stage, you turn your attention back to the two men. It's the first time you're really acknowledging the change in their appearances. Your former partners are looking a lot different than they did when they were fighting crime (and getting into trouble) by your side. Elliot is sporting a thick goatee, salt and pepper hair sticking straight down from his chin. You have this sudden urge to tug it; maybe if you were a couple more drinks in, you wouldn't have restrained yourself from doing so. Nick's hair has grown a little longer, dark curls skimming over the nape of his neck. He's also showing off a beard, more closely shaved than Elliot's; it's bringing you back to the day you met him and you called him Serpico.

They look good. _So good_ , you catch yourself staring.

Nick is being his usual slutty self, making eyes at the bartender who keeps teasing him with another shot of tequila. She 'accidentally' drops the salt shaker and bends to pick it up. He leans forward, mouth hanging open, dark eyes leering at her ass barely dressed in a pair of denim cut-offs.

Elliot, on the other hand, is drinking his beer and wincing as he pulls it away to inspect the label. He's not a fan, but you could've predicted that. Thick fingers drum at his knee as he surveys the bar with a crinkle between his brows. He shakes his head before he catches your eye. "What kind of music is this?"

You shrug. You're the last person in this place that can offer up answers to the questions weaving in his head. He doesn't even have to say anything and you understand; you two have this unspoken shorthand. So, when _he_ doesn't understand, neither do you. He's better off asking Nick, but you have a feeling those two aren't much for talking. It's funny, because Kathleen is right. There are a lot of similarities between the two men, enough that they could potentially become good friends. But both men are too proud to extend that first branch of friendship. You can sense the undercurrent of unnecessary competition between them, like a constant battle to assert their masculinity and their relationship with you.

"Let's get out of here."

Nick looks to you then lowers his head. "Ok… Call me tomorrow?"

Poor Nick thinks you were talking about just you and Elliot. You hop off the bar stool and throw your arm over his shoulder. "I was talking about the three of us. I think we need a change in scenery."

"Good idea," Elliot agrees. "But you don't have to make him leave if he doesn't want to."

"Where do you want to go?" Nick asks, ignoring Elliot's comment. "I know a place a few blocks down where you can play beer pong."

"Are you sixteen?"

"El," you warn him with as few words as possible; thankfully, he gets it. "No, I was thinking we could head back to my hotel room and hang out. I still have a conference to attend in the morning, so I really shouldn't be drinking this much anyway."

Nick pulls out his phone and taps away on the screen. "All right. Let me get us an Uber."

Elliot signals the bartender. "Can I get a shot of whatever he was having," he says as he points to Nick's row of empty glasses.

"What are you doing?"

"A shot for the road," he replies casually, "If I have to sit in the backseat of some stranger's car with this kid, then I'm going to need more than a buzz."


	2. Smut

**AN:** _Here's the part you've all been waiting for. Inspired by Zayn's Pillowtalk._

* * *

 **Pillow Talk**

* * *

 _(Climb on board)  
_ _We'll go slow and high-tempo  
_ _Light and dark  
_ _Hold me hard and mellow…_

Interesting song choice for the stoic Uber driver. Not at all made more uncomfortable by the fact that you're sandwiched between two men, you've fantasized about climbing at least once in your life. You don't know if it's the alcohol screwing with your brain, but you're suddenly more conscious of how you look and how your thighs are brushing against their legs. _God_ , why do men have to sit like that?

In the middle of your journey, Nick turns his head toward Elliot. "Liv mentioned you train black ops. That sounds cool." And so they begin to discuss models and makes of guns, how much they can lift ( _bro_ ), and their uncomplicated lives after SVU. Who needs 'partners for life' or 'friends for life' when these two can be bros for life?

The car drops you off at the hotel, and you almost wish you could hop out of the backseat and wave goodbye. Whose bright idea was it to invite these two back to your hotel room anyway? But before you can act, they've got the passenger side doors opened and they're waiting for you to step out.

The ride up the elevator is mostly silent. There's a small flat screen showing the forecast for the next seven days. Elliot asks if it's always so warm and sunny in California, and Nick casually shrugs and replies with, "pretty much."

You're grateful your hotel room is spacious and furnished enough that Elliot and Nick aren't forced to sit and share the bed. You know you said you weren't going to drink, but you head straight for the mini fridge and the bottle of wine you picked up at duty free. It was supposed to be a post-conference treat, but now you figure it's probably healthier and less controversial to share it with friends.

When you're back from the kitchenette with your wine glasses, you realize the alcohol isn't all that necessary. Both men are engaged in a (surprisingly) easy-going conversation about their ex-wives. They're both agreeing the whole mess of divorce was a necessary evil for the sake of the children. It turns out, everyone's a whole lot happier when mom and dad aren't fighting all the time and wishing they were screwing around with other people.

You pour the wine and Nick stops you to look at the label. "I dated this girl who only drank the good stuff. This one's quality."

"I'm glad I have your girlfriend's approval."

"Nah, she's not my girlfriend," Nick says, intertwining his fingers behind his head and leaning back. "Not _yet_."

You sit between them on the couch and tuck your legs under you. "What's she like?"

"21 and a senior at USC," Elliot quips.

Nick makes a face at him, which only elicits a mocking laugh from the older man. "She's a lawyer at another firm. Here," Nick says as pulls his phone out of his pocket and shows a picture of a beautiful black woman. She's dressed in a faded NYPD t-shirt, sipping on a cup of coffee while reading the morning paper.

"Hmmm…" Elliot nods approvingly.

"What was that look?" You ask when you notice the microscopic twitch in his smirk.

"What? She's hot. I'm not allowed to make a comment on another woman's appearance?"

"No, there was something else there," you say, remembering that unspoken shorthand. His current body language is telling you he's on that cusp between wanting to tell you something and wanting to keep whatever it is hidden.

"Nothing. I just thought it's interesting how the last woman I slept with also happens to be a black woman."

" _Niiice_."

He and Nick exchange some kind of macho sneer that makes you want to slink away to the ensuite with your bottle of wine. And as if matters couldn't be made worse, Elliot decides to prey on your humiliation. "Liv, when was the last time _you_ had sex?"

"I'm not answering that."

"Oh come on!" You try to get up, but Nick pulls on your elbow so you're sitting right back down on the couch. "We're all adults here."

You chuckle at the statement because it sounds ridiculous, especially coming from him. "Fine. The last time was about three weeks ago."

"Not bad," Nick says, "but you could do better."

"Who was it?" Elliot asks, stroking his grey goatee. There it goes again, your out-of-the-blue urge to tug at his chin. "Knowing your track record, it's probably someone we already know."

"Ha. Very funny," you say mockingly. No way you're going to admit the last person you slept with happened to be the same man who tried to get all three of you in jail several times throughout the last decade. Sleeping with Tucker was a major lapse in your judgment. You thought you were seeing the good in everyone, but you quickly realized that you shouldn't have been so charitable when it came to your bed. You shudder at the thought; you can't believe you gave that relationship a shot for three whole months. "It's no one you know."

"Try me," Nick insists.

"Why would I even want to tell either of you?"

"Because you care about what I think," Elliot says firmly. "I don't know about junior over there, but he probably thinks his opinion is important, too."

"Jackass."

"Dumbass."

"Geriatric son of a bitch"

"Ok, ok…" You hold your hands out on either side of you to stop the two petulant boys, but it's clear by the smirks on their faces they're not really fighting. They just want you to pacify the tension by martyring yourself. Well, you're not falling for it. "It doesn't matter who I was seeing. I don't even want to be reminded it happened. So let's drop the topic."

You reach for the bottle and refill your glass, wishing you had stopped by a liquor store on your way over to the hotel. Nick's soon-to-be girlfriend is right. The wine is, indeed, quality stuff. You debate telling him she's a keeper, but you don't want to reopen that can of worms. Leaning back against the couch, your back hits Elliot's shoulder; you shift and now your knees are on Nick's lap. If you try to move again, you're scared you're in for more bodily contact than you're prepared for. The proximity is making you feel hot, making you feel like your lungs are deprived of oxygen.

Rising from the couch, you pace to the other end of the room and lean against the desk, your chest rising and falling at a quicker rate.

"Hey, Liv," Elliot calls from his comfortable spot on the couch. He's sprawled out, legs wide open and arm draped over the backrest. "Remember when you told me your deepest, darkest fantasy was to have a threesome?"

Nick's eyes bug out and he nearly spits out his wine. "Seriously?"

"Dead serious, man," Elliot says. "Back in '99, the whole squad went out to the bar and Liv had a little too much to drink. We teased her a little… Asked her a few questions she wouldn't have answered if she were sober."

Your face feels hot. You can't believe Elliot still remembers... and he brings it up now, in front of Nick!

"So who would get to join in?" Nick asks. "Alex, Casey… _God_ , please don't say Amanda because I am not past the point of groveling." He nods slowly, eyes closing as his imagination takes him to a headspace that you don't even want to think about.

"I wasn't thinking of another woman," you blurt out, "I pictured me and two guys."

"Oooh…" Nick says with a nod of recognition, turning his head to catch a glimpse of Elliot's equally confused stare. "Oh shit."

"Yeah, so now you see why I never fulfilled this fantasy? I was young and I was delusional enough to think that I'd meet two straight guys who would be totally okay with it… Ugh, I can dream about it all I want, but it's never going to happen." The words are flying out of your mouth before you can even consider their meaning or who you're talking to. "Why are you two looking at me like that? Stop looking at me like that!" But they're both still eyeballing you, uncompromising even when you've called them out. You throw your hands in the air and try to get away from them. "Why are we even discussing this? I can't be thinking about this. I'm a mother!"

"So what if you're a mom?" Elliot questioned, "You can still have a threesome."

"El…"

 _I'm seeing the pain (seeing the pleasure)  
_ _Nobody but you, 'body but me, 'body but us  
_ _Bodies together_

A parched throat and hot flashes aren't exactly what you bargained for when you invited both men up to your room. Sure, you wanted them to get along; but you didn't want them to gang up on you and hound you on details of your sex life. Speed walking over to the kitchenette, you lean over the sink and take a few shallow breaths. You can't trust the tap water anywhere, especially in major urban centers, but you'll take anything just to quench your thirst. Suddenly, you grasp that you're actual symptom may be symbolic of another kind of thirst, and now you want to slap some sense back into you. _Get a grip, Olivia._

The cool liquid slides down your throat, a few drops trickling down the corner of your mouth. You reach up to wipe it off, but Elliot's already got his thumb swiping down your chin. His eyes are lit like a blowtorch, heat radiating from his body. You don't have a petite figure, but suddenly you feel tiny standing next to this tree trunk of a man.

Fingers gently wrap around your wrist, an open palm urging you to release the glass. Turning your head, you see Nick, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth. You loosen the grip on the glass, and he catches it before setting it down on the sink. His jaw clenches, the handsome planes of his face going taut as his touch lingers on your skin.

"What are you doing?"

You turn from Nick to Elliot. Swallowing hard when you sense them inch closer, cornering you against the kitchen counter.

Spinning on your heel, your plan is to push them away so you can get some space to breathe, think, or talk yourself out of doing something you couldn't even envision up until now. But it's a bad idea to turn around, because now you have no choice but to face them. Two sets of broad shoulders are in your way, and they're staring at you now, eyes like lasers as if they were mentally undressing you. "Y-y-you're both crazy."

Nick chuckles softly and Elliot merely shrugs a shoulder, neither one visibly affected by what they were suggesting. When they woke up this morning, they had no idea this was how their day was going to end. They hadn't thought this through. _YOU_ hadn't thought this through.

Ok, maybe you've imagined it before. You've certainly imagined getting fucked by Elliot again. And as much as it would pain you to admit it to Nick, your one drunken makeout session a few months back had granted you a fair share of wet dreams. Still, just because you had silly, dirty daydreams didn't mean you should allow them to happen when the opportunity presented itself (times two).

"Liv, you're tired and strung out." Nick's hand kneads your shoulder, digging into the sore muscles. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you can't help the satisfied groan that leaves your lips. "You really need to get laid."

"I told you... I was in a relationship with someone up until three weeks ago."

Elliot scoffs. "Clearly, that didn't work out for you. How many times did he make you come?"

Your eyes fly open, your mouth hanging slightly unable to come up with a response.

Nick stares back at you with a mixture of pity and amusement. "You faked it, didn't you?"

"I - I…" There's no use lying to them. Even if you thought up a lie right now, which you can't on account of all your mental faculties shutting down, there's no way they would believe you. They've figured you out. Elliot cups your cheek, stroking the perimeter of your lip. The impulse is to tilt your head, which allows Nick to lean forward and brush his lips over your neck. He drags it, barely skimming over the surface, before he breathes in your pulse. "Do you realize what you're doing?" You ask Elliot, his forehead now pressed onto your temple. "Thirty minutes ago, all you two could talk about was the weather -"

"Shhh…"

Nick's tongue traces your earlobe. "Relax."

Tilting your head to face him, Elliot kisses you, provoking that flame that's already burning inside you. The feel of being kissed in different places is so overwhelming, yet it awakens this lust, this greed for more. Like, it isn't enough that Elliot's tongue is slowly hinting past your lips, and Nick's teeth are grazing the shell of your ear.

This can't be happening.

You pull away to catch your breath before you're completely drowned by all the sensations. Nick lightly touches your jaw, drawing you in for a kiss. His soft lips curve over yours, locking in an embrace that's only momentarily interrupted when you feel Elliot's palms hard on your hips. He picks you up and settles you down on the counter like it's the most effortless thing he's ever done. The kiss grows deeper as Nick's hand slides behind your neck to pull your face closer, and you balance yourself on his shoulders.

Elliot's mouth latches onto your neck, sucking firmly and soothing the wound with his tongue. Your mind feels so fogged up, but it's amazing how you can tell who's kissing which part of your body. Nick has this lush and passionate way about him; everything is smooth like liquid candle wax dripping down your body. And Elliot's kisses are like this need to satiate this carnal hunger. It's something fierce, something that makes you tingle in fear, but you can't help but crave the thrill.

"Not that I'm saying we should stop…" Because, _dear god_ , that's the last thing you want. "But are you two sure you're up for this?"

"Yeah," Elliot says, furrowing his brows like it's no big deal. "I'm fucking you. I'm not fucking him."

"Golden rule," Nick adds, "it's not gay if it's a three-way."

The cool air hits your chest and you realize the buttons of your blouse are undone. Elliot's already got his fingers working on the last ones down your navel, and Nick's sliding one sleeve past your shoulder. Your lips part, a small whine slipping out, as Nick moves down your neck to lave at your clavicle. You turn to Elliot, hoping he'll kiss you instead, but he resists your invitation, choosing instead to lower his mouth to the swell of your breast.

You're so glad you decided to only pack nice underwear for your trip. Not that you were confident enough to think you were getting lucky. The black satin and lace bra is a little risque for the professional blouse and blazer you paired with it, but when you put it on that morning, it gave you a little boost of confidence.

There are two hands reaching behind your back to work on unclasping your bra. You arch your back as Elliot sucks on the top of your breast. There's a smack right behind you. Nick grunts, taking his free hand to cup your tender breast. He squeezes, and you feel as though your nipples are hard enough to poke through the fabric. There's another slap, and this time Elliot growls as his teeth shallowly sinks into your flesh.

"Oh, god!

The snaps release and you peer through lidded eyes to see a triumphant, shit-eating grin on Nick's face. Elliot shoulders him to the side as he takes the spot between your legs. He wastes no time, ripping the bra off your chest.

Heavy petting takes on a whole other meaning when four hands and two mouths are involved. They're squeezing, sucking, licking, and humming over hardened peaks. It's as if your tits are cake and they're devouring them to the very last crumb. Elliot encloses his mouth over your nipple, his eyes never straying from yours as he yields it between his teeth. Nick rolls his tongue around the other, flicking it with an urgency that has you wondering if he can manage the same between your legs.

Together, Elliot and Nick set you back down on your feet, turn you around, and bend you over the counter. Your tits are pressed up on the cool granite, a harsh contrast from the hot mouths stimulating them just seconds ago. You can't see what's going on behind you, but you can hear the sound of your leather belt sliding through the loops, and the pop of the metal button of your slacks. The skin-tight fabric slides down your legs, bunching up at your ankles. Picking up your feet, you kick them off until you're one item of clothing from being naked and bent over in front of the two men.

Nick is to your left, pressing open-mouthed kisses from the base of your spine to your shoulder blades. It sends a shiver of pleasure throughout your body. He guides your upper body off the counter, his head dipping toward your mouth.

Elliot slides his hand down your back to knead your ass. He gives one cheek a playful slap, causing you to moan into the kiss. The warmth of his hands leave you cold for a moment, then out of nowhere, he bites into your flesh.

Your instinctive reaction to the pain is to clamp your teeth down on Nick's bottom lip. "Ow!" He yelps, pulling back slightly to narrow his eyes at you.

"Sorry." You point down at Elliot, who's squatting right behind you, his large palms pressing firmly on the reddened cheeks.

"Your ass is unreal, Liv."

"Look who's talking," you reply just as Nick pulls you back in for a kiss.

Elliot tears you away from Nick, both men grunting due to this unspoken power struggle. He spins you into his arms and throws you over his shoulder. Normally, you'd be rolling your eyes at this caveman move, but something about this powerfully built man having his way with you is so dangerously exhilarating. He drops you on the bed, body crushing yours as he starts making out with you. His hands travel down your sides, hooking into the band of your lace panties to slip them down your legs. He breaks the kiss; and with your panties twirled around his finger, he slips them into the back pocket of his jeans. The wicked curve of his lips taunts you, before he steps off the bed, leaving you high and dry.

"Noooo…" you groan as both men are physically too far away and much too dressed for your liking. You're naked and writhing on the sheets, and they're standing at the foot of the bed with their shoulders squared and their hands on their hips. "You really need to start getting naked, or I'm taking matters into my own hands." You don't know where this inner sex goddess is coming from, but your hand trails down your abdomen to brush over your mound. Slowly, you part your legs, affording them both the best view. "Come on. You Catholic boys start much too late."

Nick pulls his t-shirt over his head. All lean muscle and ripped abs with a sprinkling of dark hair on his chest. He crawls toward you and kisses you once, tongues tangling briefly, before he kisses his way down your body.

He parts your legs, his eyes darkening into the shade of espresso as he marvels at your wetness. He runs his finger down your slit before sucking it into his mouth. Your heart is pounding against your ribcage; and even if you can see his chin lower and his nose disappear, even if you can sense that impending contact, it awakens your body the moment he latches onto you with his mouth. You close your eyes, your back arching, as his tongue slips between the folds.

"Oh… yes, right there!"

His lips wrap around your clit as two fingers plunge into your cunt. He curls them upwards, brushing on that spot that has your body aching in pleasure. He rolls his tongue around your clit, flicking it just like he did to your nipples. You're straining to keep your composure but it's so hard to keep yourself from free falling over the edge, when you're at the mercy of Nick's delicious mouth.

The bed dips beside you and you're forced to open your eyes. Elliot's rid of his shirt, his solid body only clothed in a pair of jeans that make his ass look even better than usual. He reaches for your face, pulling you in for a kiss as he lies on his side, supported by his elbow. His hand moves down to your neck, pressing lightly at your throat and causing you to clench around Nick's working fingers. Elliot's rough hand fondles your tits, the kiss becoming even more ferocious.

Nick rubs his fingers over your clit, his tongue diving into your saturated walls, swirling and curling into your depths. You squeeze your legs on the side of his head, wishing this talented man didn't have to live thousands of miles away. You pull on his hair with one hand, guiding him closer to your cunt, practically impaling yourself on his face. Your other hand reaches down to feel for Elliot's erection, trying to tear through his jeans. Honestly, he's so hard it wouldn't surprise you if it did.

Nick takes you over the edge, sending every nerve of your body into ecstasy. You're gushing right into his waiting mouth, seeing the warm liquid dribble down his chin. It electrifies you, forcing you to squeeze your fist around Elliot's hardness. He grunts in, both, pain and pleasure as he sucks down on your lip.

 _So we'll piss off the neighbours  
_ _In the place that feels the tears  
_ _The place to lose your fears  
_ _Yeah, reckless behavior_

The ride down from your orgasm lulls you into this state of blissful delirium.

Once you open your eyes, you see both men have lost the rest of their clothes. They're kneeling on either side of you with their dicks on display. If you weren't so turned on by it, you would have probably laughed at how this looks so close to porn. You're just waiting for the pizza delivery guy to come over and join the party.

You still need to thank Nick for that skilled mouth of his. You get up on your knees to kiss him deeply, your tits pressing up against the hard planes of his chest. His cock twitches against the base of your belly, calling out for some reciprocation. Your tongue flicks against his as your fingers trace the cut lines of his hip bones, teasing the base of his shaft.

Behind you, you feel large hands sweep your hair off your shoulder. Elliot presses his lips on your shoulder blades. Below your ear, he sucks harshly then blows cool air to soothe the sharp pain. Looking over your shoulder, you search for Elliot's mouth to pull him in for a heated kiss. Meanwhile, your hand wraps around Nick's length, stroking until it feels like a velvet encased steel pole under your grip.

"I want to see you suck him off," Elliot groans, licking your bottom lip before turning your chin forward. He nudges your head low, bending you over so you're forced to support yourself on your hands and knees. The command is to take Nick's cock into your mouth, and it's hard to refuse when it's mere inches from your face, its tip glistening with a few drops of precum.

You lick your lips, taking in a calming breath as you ready yourself. But Elliot has other plans, as he pushes your head down, forcing you to wrap your lips around Nick's girth. The head hits your cheek before it can go farther down your throat.

There's a deep rumble right above you as Nick leans back, only to push his hips forward. He wraps his fist around the base and guides himself to the back of your throat. It fills you up, and you momentarily forget to breathe through your nose. You struggle for air, moaning for oxygen. The vibrations urging Nick's cock to harden and slide along your tongue.

 _A place that is so pure, so dirty and raw  
_ _Be in the bed all day, bed all day, bed all day  
_ _Fucking you, and fighting on_

"Yeah, that's right. Take his cock and suck it," Elliot says, his voice sounding like water rushing through gravel. "Mmm… You're dripping."

You feel the hot, wet slide of Elliot's cock running along your slit. He teases your entrance, just as you pull your neck back to wrap your lips around the head of Nick's dick. You sweep your tongue around the smooth tip, bobbing your head as you mimic the strokes of his hand. You're pooling between your thighs, coating Elliot with your arousal.

Nick slips his fingers through your hair, pushing it back so he can have a better view of you taking him into your mouth. There's something so gentle and loving about it, that it completely catches you off guard when you feel the rough and deep entry from behind. Elliot fills your walls before your body can adjust, your arms give out and your head falls onto Nick's lap, taking him even deeper.

Elliot burrows into your tight heat, your clenching walls squeezing by their own accord. Once settled into the root, he rolls his hips, pulls back, and slams right back into you. He drives his dick into your cunt in relentless and unforgiving thrusts.

"You're so wet… so nice and tight…"

It's all too much being filled up in more ways than one. Elliot bucks wildly into your sex, his pace having no signs of slowing down, urging that fire in your belly to spread throughout your body. Nick affords you the chance to breathe, as he pulls his cock from your mouth, tracing the head along the perimeter of your lips. You glance up to see the dark intensity in his gaze, his tanned cheeks taking on a ruby tinge.

Just when you think you've been given an opening to last a little bit longer, Elliot wraps his forearm under your waist. His hand reaches down between your legs to brush over your clit. He presses his thumb over the hardened bud, squeezing it between his fingers.

"Oh my god!"

Nick lifts your upper body, throwing your arms around his hips. He gets right back on his knees, lifting your torso off the sheets. Your nails dig into the muscles of his ass as he thrusts his cock into your waiting mouth.

Elliot is fucking you from behind while Nick is fucking your face.

What sort of strange alternate universe did you fall into? Were those months of settling for a man who couldn't satisfy you finally pay off? Was this your reward (or your punishment) for being a patient, little, good girl?

"Oh, fuck, Nick!" Gone is the sensual eroticism replaced by this hot-blooded face fucking. He pistons into your mouth, your tongue twirling around the engorged veins of his length. "Yes!" Your moan causes a shiver as Nick's cock throbs against the roof of your mouth. Elliot continues to thrust, pulling your ass at an angle where he can fuck you so deep, so good you can feel the tension coiling in your stomach. "Fuck, I'm gonna - Oh god! Niiick - El, oh fuuuck!"

The orgasm comes hard in a series of waves that have you clawing at Nick's ass, but before you can come up for air, you feel his cock throb. His hips cease to move for a second as he releases a guttural grunt, shooting his hot, salty cum down your throat. Filling up your mouth, you take it all in and swallow, licking the tip clean before releasing him. He falls on the back of his legs, his gasps for air barely audible amidst the noise of flesh slapping on flesh. You push off of him, but not before you let your tongue run along the length of his abs. You've always wanted to do that.

 _It's our paradise and it's our war zone…  
_ _It's our paradise and it's our war zone…_

Nick slides up the bed and rests his head on the pillows, his eyes closed and a delirious smile on his face. You're taken out of your momentary admiration for your ex-partner, when your other ex-partner, pulls your back flush against his hard chest. His arm courses over your stomach to cup your breasts as he continues to bounce you on his cock.

"Fuck!" Your cries of pleasure are sure to wake the neighbors, but you can't be thinking about that right now. Not when you're getting such a delicious fucking. You're so tender between your legs, almost too sore to be taking any more of this plundering; but your sexual greed outweighs your body's cry for relief. "Jesus Christ, El!"

"Blasphemy sounds so sexy on you, Liv."

He pulls out of you, and your body doesn't know if it should be thankful for the chance to recover or frustrated because you miss his dick already. Elliot settles you down on the bed beside Nick, who's been watching you the whole time, his gaze clouded by lust and maybe even jealousy. As Elliot pushes himself back inside of you, your lower lips suck him right in, tightening around what already feels so familiar to your body. He braces himself on his forearms as he drives into you in rhythmic strokes. You turn your head to see Nick staring at your face, his upper body angling toward you. He cradles your jaw and pulls you in for a languid kiss, lips locking and tongues lazily exploring. This seems to ignite a flame inside Elliot as the momentum picks up and he slips his hand between your bodies to toy with your sensitive clit.

You didn't think you had anything left in you but the dual sensations of Nick's lips and Elliot's cock on your body has you stirring. It unwraps and unleashes an orgasm that makes you gasp and tremble. Moments later, Elliot's movements settle as he comes hard inside you, burying his head in your neck and breathing in deeply. He crashes over your body, before he rolls off the the side, his muscled chest heaving for air. It seems hard to come by, especially with the thick fog of sex looming above your heads.

The room is quiet except for the sounds of your breathing, which seem to be in synchrony.

You chuckle softly. You're not sure why exactly. It could be the absurdity of having a threesome at your age with two very attractive men. If it was going to happen, you were glad it happened with Elliot and Nick - men you trust and men you love (in different ways). You just wish when you wake up tomorrow, you could keep this arrangement until you're too old and your hip gives out. Just the idea of the three of you in a nursing home, sneaking off and fucking each other's brains out makes you laugh.

Next thing you know, you're all laughing. Cuddling into two pairs of strong arms, it's the first time in a while you can fall asleep, feeling absolutely content with life.

What else could you possibly need?

* * *

"Lucy, I'm sorry I forgot to call last night. How's Noah?"

You're in the bathroom of your hotel room, your phone pressed up to your ear as you listen to your nanny explain everything was fine. Apart from a little accident at daycare (Noah still didn't feel comfortable telling his teacher when he needed to go to the potty), your son has been his usual self. He's asked when you'd be home a few times, but he hasn't missed you enough to throw a tantrum over it. In a way, you feel kind of miffed about that.

"Don't worry about not calling," Lucy says on the other line. "I figured you were tied up at the conference."

Clearing your throat, you reply, "Yes. I was very busy…"

Once you talk to your son on the phone and he babbles about his friends, both real and imaginary, you end the call. Walking over to the sink, you splash cold water on your face. The reflection you're staring at isn't the same as it has been for almost a year now. There's a pink glow on your cheeks, and a brightness in your eyes. You don't feel the need to paste a smile on your face just to assure everyone you encounter that you're fine. This time, you feel more than fine. Dare you say it, you actually feel alive again.

You never believed in all that magical healing penis bullshit until now. Maybe the trick is having two at the same time.

When you get to the doorway, you stop in your tracks at the sight of your two naked boys cuddling in bed. Arms thrown over each other's waists, Nick's head on Elliot's shoulder, and Elliot's leg draped over Nick's thigh.

So… not gay, right?

You debate snapping a picture - not for blackmail, but for your own personal collection. You doubt this is ever going to happen again, so you might as well preserve it in memory. But you don't trust any of this iCloud business, and you can't imagine either one of these two self-proclaimed alpha males to allow you to have such damning evidence that could dismantle their fragile masculinity. Setting your phone on the desk, you climb on top of the bed and slip in between them.

The conference doesn't start for another hour, but even then, no one's taking attendance. You're tempted to play hooky for the day and prolong this dream until you have to fly out tomorrow morning. You press your back against Elliot's chest, so you can be his little spoon. Nick shifts at your movements and his eyes open, a small yawn leaving his lips. He turns his head, a crooked smile forming on his face as he realizes you're already awake.

"Mornin'."

You place your palm over his cheek, feeling the scruff against your fingertips. Kissing him softly, you inch a little closer until you can feel his morning wood brush on your inner thigh. "Someone's up early."

He bites his lip as he picks up your leg and throws it just below his hip. "You know, I still haven't fucked you." He guides his dick along your entrance, feeling your slick folds pulse in anticipation. You've always been partial to morning sex; no better way to start the day. Nick slots himself against your cunt, pushing the head slowly, before your lips suction him in. Your hand courses to the nape of his neck, gripping on his curls as he eases the rest of the way in, your walls gripping tight around him.

As you release the breath you didn't know you were holding, Nick hikes up your leg and starts fucking you nice and slow. You feel like you're in heaven as his lips coax you into a kiss, to drown out the moans he's eliciting from grinding his cock deep into your core.

You're jolted out of the peaceful bliss when you feel a hard pole prod between your ass cheeks. Your eyes fly open, as you separate from Nick's mouth. A large hand takes you by the cheek to turn your head, and you feel Elliot's lips envelop your mouth to greet you 'good morning'. You moan into the kiss as Nick's thrusts quicken, that competition starting up all over again.

Elliot pulls away just far enough that you don't have time to close your mouth. He sinks two fingers past your lips, letting your saliva coat his digits. He brings them down to your ass, teasing the hole with just the tip of his index finger. He smirks, one brow raising to ask if he should continue. You're nervous. It's been a while since you let anyone try to do you back there, and it had always been too painful to be pleasurable. Then again, you trust Elliot to be careful, to go at a pace that's comfortable to you. With Nick already pushing you over the edge from one end, it's hard to imagine what it would be like to have them both inside you at the same time. But why stop now?

"Liv?"

You take a deep breath, already knowing your answer.


End file.
